Reborn: High Strung | ONC2024

Chapter 7

Jekuthiel's eyes shot open as a scream flung from his lungs. Visions of tiger-like claws raking through his body filled his mind as he sat up in an unfamiliar place. The terrain around him was rocky, with only a few scattered trees and towering gray and black mountains raised to the smoke-filled sky as far as his eyes could see. The boy looks down at his hands, then uses those hands to feel his body. He was intact; he was alive. On a new layer, he had been reborn. His skin was slightly more pale and gray; his long brown hair had shifted into a deep crimson color; but most shocking were his ears. He felt them as they stuck out horizontally on both sides of his head, a few inches in length, ending in a point, and drooping down slightly. Jekuthiel had never gone to school properly, so he had little clue what any of these changes meant; he only knew he was on a lower layer than where he had been killed by that monstrous creature. Getting to his feet, the young boy started to walk through the desolate planes around him, eyes fixed on the mountains that seemed to trap the world he was placed in.

Once Jekuthiel's eyes made it to the ground, curiosity washed over him. The ground had very little nature, mostly dirt, stone, and strange blackened spots. It was while examining one of these spots that a loud ringing of thunder boomed all around him, making his hands fling to his large, sensitive ears, and his eyes clenched shut from the flash that temporarily blinded him. Shaken with fear and cowering in place, Jekuthiel slowly opened his eyes to see the new blackened patch of dirt a mere twenty feet in front of him, where the flash had struck the ground. He struggled to get himself to move. What if another flash came and struck him? He built the courage to take a step forward, but just as he did, a voice hissed from behind him: "Boy, what are you doing out here?"

Jekuthiel turned to the voice with a scream of terror, both hands out toward it as if to beg for mercy, but only one thought truly went through his mind: 'Don't let them hurt you again!'

Jekuthiel then felt a feeling he had never felt before as sethra poured out of his hands in a burst of roaring flames that covered the stranger before he could even remember their face. Heat filled Jekuthiel's body quickly as the flames swarmed around the stranger, who began to yell out in agonizing pain and convulse in the fire. Even as the shock of using sethra gripped the young boy, his thoughts blazed just as intensely: 'Don't let them hurt anyone ever again!'

His cry of fear and new-found power sang harmoniously with the screams of horror coming from the target of his emotions. Jekuthiel felt his arms start shaking, pain ripping through them as flames licked up his forearms. He stopped releasing his sethra immediately. His arms burned with scorching pain—not just one type of burn but multiple. Sethra burn marks in scattered lines all along his upper arm went down toward his forearm and hands, which were covered in more natural burns. Jekuthiel fell to the ground, writhing on his back and holding his arms to his chest as his sethra flames burned away into the air, leaving the stranger nothing but a pile of burnt flesh and bones, lying on the ground by the boy. His eyes filled with hot tears, and the world around him became a chaotic blur as a second flash of light filled the air, followed by another boom of thunder echoing between the mountains. Jekuthiel's ears were ringing as he saw the blurs of multiple looming figures moving in around him. With a few blinks, he saw the face of a shocked woman standing over him, the same pointed ears as his draped on the sides of her head. She began to look around at others like she was shouting something the boy could not hear as the ringing and rushing of blood in his ears wouldn't stop. He closes his eyes as he feels himself lifted over a broad shoulder; his mind couldn't take the pain any longer, and Jekuthiel passes out.

Jekuthiel woke up in a warm room made of gray stone, with nooks carved into the walls holding candles and a door made of metal bars shut in front of him. He was sitting on a bed made of stone with a large cushion over it. The cushion was stuffed with a beast's feathers inside of some kind of rough natural fabric he had never felt before. To his surprise, his arms were sore, but he felt fine other than that. Burn scars covered his hands and shoulders. He seemed to be dressed in a sleeveless brown and blue tunic made of a similar fabric as the cushion. Jekuthiel makes his way to the metal bars of the door and peeks around the hallway that seemed to wrap around outside the room. A tall and very wide man sat in a stone chair to the left of the door, his eyes raised to meet the boys. He wore a similar rough tunic; his short, curly hair was a deep brown; and his eyes were an icy sky blue. He had the same pale gray skin as Jekuthiel and the same long, pointed ears that drooped to the sides. He stood and walked over to the door, looking down at the boy like a mammoth in comparison as he spoke, "You're finally awake. We've got a lot of questions for you, little guy."

Jekuthiel stutters through his words, "We? How many of you are there?" as he remembers the multiple figures that surrounded him before he lost consciousness.

"Plenty, the Roc tribe is among the strongest in all of Voltara, Kid." The large man crossed his arms and eyed the boy suspiciously before continuing, "You're a Nesherin. You must know what this symbol is?" He gestures to the crest on his tunic, which resembles two spread wings.

Jekuthiel looked at the crest in confusion before shaking his head. "I don't know what a Nesherin is, sir."

The man scrunched his face a bit, pointing up to his ears. "Well, you're not a damn human. Look at your ears. What's the point in lying to me?"

"I'm not a human?" A genuine, confused shock sprouted on the boy's face, and the large man softened.

"Razerin, help me. Are you a reborn child?"

Jekuthiel looks down to the stone floor and says, "I came from layer three, but I was a human." His memories of home played out in his mind as the man thought to himself over this information.

"Features usually change when a rebirth occurs, but for a human to actually become a Nesherin, well, it's very rare. I don't know how your end came about up there, but it is believed that that does play a role in the rebirth process."

Jekuthiel looks back up to meet the man's gaze. "It does?"

"Some say it's destiny, and seeing you here, I'd be inclined to believe 'em. The name is Gavriel. What should I call you? You reckless little flame."

Jekuthiel felt his head almost pop right off his shoulders as he got closer to the bars in a jolt. "Flame? What do y-" he pauses and takes a gulp, clearing his head. "Jekuthiel, sir. But I'm no flame; I was a coal when I," he trails off a bit as Gavriel's face twists in irritation and then shock.

Joy spread across Gavriel's cheeks. "A burnt soul? With no reason to lie about it, Oh ho ho, Ziva is going to need to hear of this immediately. Stay put, Jekuthiel; I'll bring you a meal when I return."

Jekuthiel backed up and sat down on the bed provided in his cell; it's not like he could even go anywhere. What did Gavriel think he was going to do? And why did he sound so damn happy about him being a burnt soul? All that had ever meant for Jekuthiel was pain and separation. He never even explained why he thought Jekuthiel was a flame. But as he sat and really thought about it, the fire he blasted out at that stranger—a coal, not even an ember—could have done that. Jekuthiel regretted it now; he had just been scared, and his fear had morphed into rage. It was ugly, but it was powerful.

"A burnt soul reborn straight into a flame?" a gruff feminine voice called out from across the bars. Jekuthiel looked startled to see the excited woman standing with her hands on her hips; she wore the same brown and blue tunic as Gavriel, and her appearance matched his almost perfectly, aside from her curly hair being down to the middle of her back and draped around her shoulders down her chest. He could only assume this was Ziva, the woman Gavriel went to talk to. The overly enthusiastic lady grips the bars and sticks her face against them, looking Jekuthiel up and down. "We have so much to talk about, Kid. Let's get you out of here and into a real room."

Jekuthiel stood up and held his hands out. "Aren't you upset with me? I hurt someone, one of your-" He was cut off by Ziva quickly.

"Eitan was soft; the only good thing he ever did was lead me to you, and in his place, I'll adopt you into the tribe." Her voice was cold toward the man he had burned alive, while she had a fiery thrill beneath it that she couldn't mask. Ziva leaned back from the bars, unlocking the door and gesturing to Jekuthiel as it swung open. "Come, little brother, I'll show you around the Roc tribe."

Jekuthiel took a cautious step forward. Could this really be a place where he was wanted? A family that looked to him as a real asset? He took another step, and another, until Ziva was leading him down the stone halls of the Roc tribe.